Parents and Children
by PeonyPierce
Summary: This is series of one-shots about the many parent/child style relationships of Once Upon a Time. Biological parents, adoptive parents, step-parents, and even mentor/mentee relationships will be included. Chapters will go in chronological order.
1. Merlin and the Apprentice

Goodness is a noble pursuit, but often a lonely one. The gift of magic presented Merlin the opportunity to help the needy, to heal the sick, to bring smiles to the faces of the downtrodden, and to instill hope in the hearts of all who sought him out; five hundred years of healing and helping provided Merlin with a life saturated with meaning.

But five hundred years had gone by, and he had yet to maintain a relationship with another living soul. People came to him in their times of need. He healed them. They returned to their lives, grateful, but never interested in maintaining a friendship with Merlin. They thought of him as a powerful wizard and nothing more. On his darkest days, he admittedly felt a bit used. He was appreciated for his powers, but never for his company.

 _Yes, goodness is quite the lonely pursuit_ , he thought bitterly one day, as he tended to a young boy's wounded leg.

Merlin waved his hand and watched as the boy's deep cuts were covered with healthy skin. "Papa!" the boy exclaimed in delight, "I'm all better! It doesn't hurt anymore!" The boy leapt to his feet and began to jump up and down. "I'm all better, Papa! I'm all better!"

The boy's father breathed a sigh of relief. Upon hearing of Merlin's abilities, he had carried his son for two days on foot to find the wizard and request his assistance.

"Sesdyn, my son! I'm thrilled, you're all right." Beaming with joy, the man lifted his newly healed son into the air and spun him around. "Thank you so much, sir." The father dropped to his knees. "I don't know how a poor man like me can ever repay you for saving my son's life."

"No payment necessary," Merlin replied with a warm smile. "Goodness is its own reward." This was true. Of course it was true. So why did Merlin feel so empty lately? Why didn't goodness fill him up as it once did?

The father clasped Merlin's hands in his own. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're welcome," Merlin said, clapping the man on the back. "But I sense you must be going now. You have a long journey back, and your wife, Tatia, will soon begin to worry about you and the boy."

"But how did you know my wife's name? I never told it to you?"

"I know very many things, my dear man. Now, you and your son better be on your merry way."

With one last grateful nod, man and boy, father and son, set off down the dirt road together, arm in arm. Soon they will be reunited with Tatia. A happy family healthy and together again.

The warmth that filled Merlin's heart at the thought was punctuated by pangs of envy. Where was _his_ kindhearted wife? His boisterous child? Was it simply his fate to be eternally alone? Always keeping families together, but never meriting one of his own?

* * *

"P-please can you help me?" The little boy appeared to be on the verge of tears. His face was caked in dirt, and his fearful eyes glistened with tears. His clothes were tattered and singed, and his feet were bare and blackened from walking.

"Of course, my dear boy. What's your name?" Merlin asked.

"M-my n-name is R-R-Rune. I'm s-seven-years old."

Merlin smiled kindly, lowering himself to the boy's eye level. "And what can I help you with today, Rune?" Merlin asked kindly.

The boy burst into tears. Merlin took him into his arms, allowing the child to cry for a few minutes.

"It's m-my v-v-village. And my p-p-p-parents. I went to get some f-firewood like Father told me to, and w-when I returned to the village, it had been b-burned to the ground. M-my parents are gone! Can you please bring them back, sir?"

"I'm so sorry, my dear boy, but magic has its limits. It cannot raise the dead."

The boy sobbed harder than ever, and Merlin clung to him.

This boy, Rune, had no one, just like Merlin.

"W-what am I supposed to do?" Rune asked, wide-eyed and vulnerable.

Rune sobbed in silence for a moment, while Merlin contemplated how he could help the poor boy. He was struck with a sudden inspiration. "Rune?" he asked tentatively, wiping a tear from the boy's face. "Do you know what an apprentice is?"

Rune shook his head.

"An apprentice is someone very important who helps someone else do their job and learns about the job along the way."

"Oh," Rune said in a small voice, unsure where Merlin was going with this.

"Rune, would you like to be my apprentice from now on?"

"Me?" Rune asked, a little startled. "But I'm just an orphaned village boy, and you are a great sorcerer. Do you really think I could be a sorcerer's apprentice?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret, my boy. I can see the future." Rune gasped loudly. "And that's how I know that you will make an excellent sorcerer's apprentice."

Merlin swirled his hand in the air and produced a small glass vial with which he captured one of Rune's tears as it sailed down his reddened cheek. Merlin poured the singular tear onto a nearby tree and waved his magical hand yet again.

The tree instantly vanished, replaced by a puff of magical blue smoke.

Rune gasped audibly once more.

From the smoke emerged a newly fashioned ornate wooden wand, which Merlin placed in Rune's hands. "This is for you, my dearest apprentice. It is a wand fashioned from the darkness of your sorrow and the light of my healing powers. Use it wisely, but beware: all magic comes with a price."

Rune's mouth twitched into something of a slight smile, and he hugged Merlin harder than ever.

From then on, Merlin never felt alone.

Rune and Merlin were just two lonely souls united by unfortunate circumstances. But together, they made a positive impact on the lives of so many.

Goodness was no longer a lonely pursuit.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! So this is basically going to be a series of one-shots about all the different parent/child-type relationships on OUAT, including biological parents, adoptive parents, step parents, and even mentor/mentee relationships, like the one in this chapter. I want to make this go in chronological order, so Merlin seemed like a great person to start with.**

 **The apprentice is never named on the show, so I decided to call him Rune, which just felt like a good name for a sorcerer's apprentice to me.**

 **Up next is Fiona and baby Rumplestiltskin, followed by Malcolm and child Rumple.**


	2. Fiona and Rumplestiltskin

Fiona and Malcolm had been trying to have a baby for seven years.

"Will I ever get to be a mother?" Fiona inquired of her husband, exhausted and exasperated.

"Of course you will, my love," he replied, ever the optimist. "We will keep trying until you get pregnant. And our child will be perfect, just like you."

It was a bitterly cold winter's day when fate gifted them with a son. The air was frigid, but Fiona's heart was warm with delight. Even as the pains of labor rippled through her, Fiona knew this was the happiest and most important day of her life. Her screams of agony were nothing but steps toward her ultimate goal: motherhood.

When the baby was finally out, Fiona held him in her arms, cradling his delicate head. She stared at his tiny round face for a moment. Or maybe it was a couple of hours. She could not tell; time stood still when she was with him.

When she finally tore her gaze from her infant son, she looked up into her husband's eyes, and something passed between them. Pure bliss.

This baby was Fiona's dream come true. This was her happy ending.

But the baby brought more than just joy. He brought an enormous sense of responsibility. Duty. Obligation. It was her life's purpose and her most crucial obligation to care for and protect this boy.

Fiona would protect her son from everything and anything the world thrust in his path. She would protect him no matter what.

* * *

When the fairies arrived on the day of the baby's birth and informed her of the boy's bright destiny, Fiona was elated. _Her_ son was to be a Savior! Fiona and Malcolm exchanged looks of rapture, eyes alight with dreams of their son's perfect future. Nothing could ruin their spirits.

Until Fiona started perusing through the Book of Prophecy a few days later.

"What is that, Fiona dear?" Malcolm asked with a yawn one night as the couple prepared for bed. Fiona was sitting in bed with her nose buried in the ancient text.

"It's a book of prophecies," she replied with a smile. "Tiger Lily gave it to me. I'm trying to find out all we need to know about our precious little Savior's future." But Malcolm did not hear her; he was already sleeping soundly as his infant son. Fiona sighed, grinning, and shook her head. This man could fall asleep in an instant and sleep through anything. It really was quite an interesting talent.

As her eyes passed over the pages that detailed her baby's fate, Fiona's smile began to falter. Her hands began to tremble. Her eyes widened with fear. Fiona slammed the book shut and threw it forcefully onto the ground. It landed with a loud thud. Malcolm continued to snore beside her. He was such a heavy sleeper. How could he be drifting peacefully through his dreams while their son was in such grave danger?

According to the prophecy book, the Savior was to die at the hands of a great evil in the Final Battle.

 _Great evil? Final Battle?_ The Savior was clearly destined for a difficult and dark life as well as a violent death at the hands of a most vile creature.

The evil will be born in the same winter as her son ... A baby.

Another mother's baby was destined to kill hers. Children were supposed to be good and innocent, but evidently a rotten one had recently entered the world or would enter it shortly.

The evil would be marked with a crescent moon scar. Fiona would find the child with this scar. She would destroy the wicked beast. Her son would be saved. Yes. Yes, it was imperative that she find the wicked child and dispose of it.

But how would she accomplish such a feat? How would she find and destroy the evil disguised as good?

Breathing heavily, a desperate Fiona thrust the blanket off of her legs. Standing up, she began to pace the room _Think, Fiona, think,_ she demanded of herself. From the moment she first laid eyes on her son, she knew that her sole purpose was to protect him at all costs. But how? How? _How?_

A mere mortal like herself could never stand up to this terrible evil nor to such powerful forces as fate and destiny.

There was only one way to ensure the boy's protection. She could feel the corners of her mouth turning up in a savage grin. For some reason, it felt wrong. This desire felt almost dirty.

But it was the only way. She spoke the words out loud, as though that was the only way to make them true.

"I need more power."

* * *

 **It was more difficult than I expected to get into Fiona's** **mindset, but here is my attempt at filling in a gap left by 6x19. I imagine her thought process being someone similar to future Rumple's: first their only goal is to protect their child, but eventually they begin to seek the power for its own sake.** **Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :)**

 **This story is going in chronological order, so next up we have Malcolm with Rumple after Fiona's been banished to the Dark Realm, followed by the Spinsters with Rumple after Malcolm abandons him. After that we'll be done with young Rumple and moving on to some more characters :)**

 **Please leave a review to let me know what you thought of the chapter and which parent/child chapters you are most excited to read about! I really appreciate the reviews I have received so far. To the reviewer who suggested a Hook &Bae or Hook&Henry chapter, I will definitely be including those at some point! But again, I am going chronologically, so it will be a while before I get to the many Henry chapters I plan on including :D Hook&Bae will be pretty soon though! :D**


	3. Malcolm and Rumplestiltskin

At night, Malcolm could barley stand to look at the boy. In many ways, Rumplestiltskin had been nothing but a nuisance, a burden, and a parasite to Malcolm for three years.

With a dry chuckle, Malcolm remembered how he and Fiona longed for a child for so long. They were so elated the day Rumplestiltskin was born; they thought the boy would be a source of joy and blessing upon the family and upon the whole world. He was to be a Savior.

 _The Savior,_ Malcolm thought darkly, lying awake and thrashing in bed while Rumplestiltskin slept peacefully, thoughts undisturbed.

Some Savior the boy was. He could not even save his own mother. Instead, Malcolm's beloved wife saved Rumplestiltskin and died in the process.

And Malcolm was left all alone to raise the terrible, burdensome child. For Fiona's sake, Malcolm tried to shower the boy with the affection she would want him to feel. On the inside, though, he despised the child. His own offspring was a curse on his life. It was not fair that Malcolm had to be the adult while Rumplestiltskin could be the child. Malcolm had to care for the boy; he had to keep him fed and healthy and safe. Rumplestiltskin had to care for no one but himself and his own happiness.

These were Malcolm's last thoughts before he drifted off into a restless sleep, thrashing and turning and reliving the day he found out about Fiona's death, as he did on most nights.

And yet, in the mornings, Malcolm would feel a rush of affection for the child; in the mornings, Malcolm wanted the boy to have the good life that Malcolm never would. He wanted the boy to be happy and successful.

But even in the mornings, Malcolm did not want to be the one to provide the boy with happiness or success. Malcolm wanted to distance himself from his beloved son and despised murderer of him wife. He loved Rumplestiltskin so dearly and hated him so intensely all at the same time. It was too much. Malcolm could not handle all of the conflicting emotions. He did not want to handle them.

* * *

"Papa?" Rumplestiltskin asked one day when he was five. "What was my Mama's name?"

Malcolm hated it when the boy bought up his mother in such a cavalier manner. "Fiona," Malcolm told him in a harsh whisper. "Your mother's name was Fiona."

"Why isn't she here with us? All of the other children live with their Mama and their Papa. I would like to live with my Mama too."

"Your mother is dead, Rumplestiltskin. You know that." Malcolm raised his voice. "Must you always bring this up?" He was getting annoyed at Rumplestiltskin. What right did the boy have to talk about Fiona when he had failed to save her? When he had forced her to save him instead?

"I'm sorry, Papa," said Rumplestiltskin, hanging his head.

It took Malcolm a minute to realize that his son was crying. Sighing, he bent down to comfort the boy.

"There, there, Rumplestiltskin. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I-I just wanted to know more about my Mama. You never talk about her."

Malcolm sat down on an wooden chair and pulled the child onto his lap. "Okay, my son. What would you like to know?"

Rumplestiltskin thought for a moment. "How did she die?" he asked eventually.

Malcolm hesitated. "She ... she died because of someone we thought would be good for our family. That person turned out to be a source of evil for us."

"Oh." They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then, Rumplestiltskin said "Did she love me?"

"Yes, my boy. Yes, she loved you very much. She loved you more than anything. She cared about you more than she cared about herself ... more than she cared about me.

"Is that why you get mad at me sometimes, Papa? Because Mama loved me more than she loved you?"

Malcolm was not quite certain how to answer this. "Something like that," he said finally in a choked voice.

"I'm sorry, Papa."

"No, I'm sorry, my boy. It's not your fault."

On that day, Malcolm vowed to be a better father to Rumplestiltskin. He would be the father that the boy deserved. He would be the man that Fiona would want him to be.

As the years past, the vow proved difficult to keep. A good man would earn money in an honest way; Malcolm earned his living by swindling people. A good father would not abandon his son in favor of eternal youth; Malcolm planned to do just that.

* * *

Years later, Peter Pan would reflect on loving Fiona and losing her. He would reflect on raising Rumplestiltskin alone and abandoning him. He would reflect on his vow to do right by him ... to be a good father.

Peter Pan would reflect on breaking that vow. Although he occasionally felt the loss of Fiona and Rumplestiltskin with a pang of regret, he knew he had made the right decision.

He was never cut out for fatherhood. Rumplestiltskin was much better off with those spinsters.

As for Malcolm ... he was better off not existing. A man who broke his vow, a man who betrayed the love of his life and their only child, should cease to exist.

Malcolm decided long ago that in his stead should exist a man with no responsibility to anyone but himself. No. A _boy_ with no responsibility. A boy who could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, even the impossible. A boy who would remain a boy forever; a boy who would never grow up to be a man and certainly not a father.

Peter Pan was glad that Malcolm came to that conclusion all those years ago. He much preferred his current life the eternally young ruler of Neverland than his previous life as a failure of a husband and father.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review to let me know what you thought :D**

 **Up next is Rumple and the spinsters xD Based on the online timeline I've been following, the next child is young Killian followed by Baelfire. Please let me know in the reviews if you would like me to do Killian and his father before his father left or skip young Killian and go straight to Bae, or if you have a better idea for who I can use as Killian's parent figure. Thanks so much!**


	4. The Spinsters and Rumplestiltskin

Rumplestiltskin missed his Papa.

He did not quite miss his Mama, because he could not remember her, but he envied the other children in the village whose mothers cared for them and doted upon them.

The spinsters who had taken him in were very kind. They fed him and clothed him and kept him safe and warm. But they never considered him their son, nor did they ever love him as such.

If he couldn't have a proper mother, didn't he at least deserve a father? Seated at the spinning wheel, Rumple grit his teeth in anger. Apparently, his father didn't think that Rumple deserved any parents at all, because he had left. He deserted his only son. He abandoned his own flesh and blood in favor of youth and magic. Rumple did not like magic very much. Magic had ruined his life.

Rumple channeled his anger into the spinning. He spun and spun spool after spool. His anger fueled his spinning and his spinning fueled his anger which fueled his spinning further.

"Rumple? Are you alright?" It was Martha, one of the spinsters. She and Mildred were watching Rumple with concerned expressions. Until now, Rumple had not noticed them, nor had he noticed the the angry noises he was emitting.

"Yes," he said. "Thank you." He had stopped spinning, but was still staring intently at the wheel.

Martha shook her head. "Of course you're not."

"A boy needs his Papa," Mildred agreed.

"I miss him," Rumple admitted. "And I'm also mad at him for leaving me."

"We know," Martha said, stroking his hair. "But spinning is not an angry activity, Rumplestiltskin." You can come to the wheel feeling whatever emotion you want: anger, excitement, sadness, jealousy, anxiety ... it does not matter, because the wheel is supposed to calm you down, whatever you are feeling. While you are spinning, you must take deep, calming breaths. The wheel will take care of the rest; it will envelope you with a blanket of tranquility if you allow it to do so."

"And you mustn't hiss at the wheel," Mildred added.

"A very good point, Milly," Martha smiled. "You don't want to scare it, do you?"

"It's just a wheel," said Rumple. "I know it can't get scared. I'm not stupid."

"Of course not!" said Martha, again stroking his hair. "But you are quite angry. And we are trying to tell you that you need to be gentle at the wheel. You may not be able to scare it, but you can still break it."

"Oh. I didn't think of that. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry, Rumple. Just be calm. Allow the wheel to make you calm; allow it to drive away your anger."

"Allow it to drive away my anger," Rumplestiltskin repeated.

He took a calming breath before he returned to his spinning. Once again, his anger fueled his spinning, but he refused to let his spinning fuel his anger. As he spun he took deep, calming breath after deep, calming breath. He kept spinning and breathing deeply until he felt into a state of serenity. His fingers automatically worked automatically, while his mind wandered.

The problem was that for the past week since Malcolm abandoned him, Rumplestiltskin had thought of little else besides his anger towards his father. He needed a comforting thought to occupy his mind for the time being.

 _I would never,_ ever _abandon my child. No matter what._ This was the thought he chose. He basked in its warm embrace.

Malcolm may have abandoned Rumple, choosing eternal boyhood over his son, but when Rumple had a child, he would prioritize fatherhood above all else. Unlike his Papa, who craved youth, Rumple could not wait to grow up and have a child of his own. He could sense that he would have a natural knack for caring for children, just as he did for spinning. He would probably enjoy it just as much as well.

Rumplestiltskin was sure that one day he would be the greatest father that anyone had ever been.

* * *

 **Hi everyone! Thanks for reading! This chapter is pretty short, since I didn't have much to write for Rumple and the Spinsters. It ended up being mostly about Rumple, but I think that's okay.**

 **Anyway, next up is Young Killian. I'm going to use his brother, Liam, as his father-figure. Thank you INEEDFICS for the great suggestion! After that, we move on to the young Baelfire chapters :D**


	5. Liam and Killian

The blackness of the room at night threatened to engulf young Killian Jones. Salty waves of sea lapped against the boat's sturdy hull. Killian was met with the sudden urge to spring out of bed, sneak out onto the deck, and watch them intently.

Killian, Liam, and the other child slaves slept in cramped quarters. As Killian lay awake, the sounds of his fellows' restless breathing mingled with the serene crashing of the waves. The cacophony that resulted made Killian cringe; there was something incredibly uncomfortable about the peaceful sounds of the great sea being interrupted by the chaotic sounds of the slumber of abandoned children, desperately soaking up their rest after a tiresome day of servitude.

Again, Killian felt the gentle tug of the great sea in his mind and heart. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to attempt to fall asleep. As he lay in limbo between wake and sleep, an image of himself and his brother flashed through his mind. They were the Captains Jones. Brothers, best friends, and co-captains of a grand ship. Their loyal crew adored and respected them.

Killian allowed himself to relax. The comforting arms of sleep welcomed him into their warm embrace, beckoning him forward. He allowed himself to sink into them. For a second, he teetered on the brink of sleep, secure in his vision of Killian and Liam as the future Captains Jones.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He stared at the cabin ceiling. For a few seconds, he saw nothing but darkness. After a moment, his vision adjusted to the dark, and he made out the outlines of the ceiling's wooden panels.

Killian balled his hands into fists in anger. He needed to break free from the crowded cabin. He needed to sail out in the open as he was born to do. His eyes darted back and forth. The children were not allowed to leave their quarters at night. If he was caught, he would feel the wrath of the cane. He still had the red mark across his back from the last time he was discovered breaking the rules.

But it had been hours since the children were sent to sleep. The rest of the crew _must_ have already gone to bed as well, right?

 _Right,_ Killian decided, and so he risked it. Slipping out from under his thin white sheet, Killian tiptoed to the cabin door. The floor beneath his toes felt icy, as did the metal doorknob when he placed his hand upon it.

Killian dashed up the stairs and emerged onto the main deck. Inhaling, he felt the cool breeze against his cheeks, allowing the salty sea air to fill his lungs. He had been correct; the deck was void of human souls but for Killian. He stood at the edge of the boat and looked out upon the black waves surrounding him on all sides. Utterly at peace, Killian closed his eyes, and returned to the happy place of his fantasy of future captain-hood.

A hand came out of nowhere and pressed down onto his shoulder.

Killian jumped and gasped audibly. He had been caught. He would be in so much trouble. He did not think he could stand the ache in his back yet again.

But it was only Liam.

"How did you know I was up here?" Killian whispered, emitting a sigh of relief.

Liam brushed a dark lock from Killian's face. "You haven't slept well since Father left us. When I saw your empty bed, I had a hunch you'd be up here."

"You really know me Liam," said Killian in a small voice. "And you really care about me. You care about me more than Father ever did." Killian paused for a moment. He continued to stare out at the vast ocean. Finally, he said. "You're all I have. Well, you and this ship anyway."

"We Jones brothers have to stick together," Liam said with a smile.

"Forever," Killian agreed.

They stood there in silence, arm in arm. They were two brothers on a boat crawling with sleeping sailors, entirely alone but for each other and the ship for which they led a life of servitude and the endless black ocean in the cool, breezy night.

* * *

Many years later, a one-armed captain stood on his beloved _Jolly Roger_ , surrounded by a devoted and adoring crew. Yet, he felt entirely alone but for his ship and the sea.

Killian remembered his days and nights as an enslaved deckhand; one of many children abandoned by their fathers and left at sea.

The sea had taken him in as its own. He owed everything to the salty water and to the wooden decks of his ship … and to Liam.

The thought of his deceased brother hit Killian with a painful jolt. He dulled it with a swig of rum, just as he utilized the beverage to dull the rest of the pain that he accumulated through the years from father's abandonment to Milah's death and the loss of his hand.

Killian would not allow the pain to penetrate his hardened exterior. He buried it in the depths of his being.

He reminded himself that he was Captain Hook. He was the rugged and devilishly handsome captain of a glorious ship. He didn't need family or true love to make him happy. The _Jolly Roger_ was enough. Well, the _Jolly Roger_ as well as his pirate's life of thieving, pillaging, and plundering, and of course his plans to exact revenge against the bloody Crocodile.

Sailing and piracy and revenge plots. That was enough for him ... It _had_ to be enough for him.

An image of young Liam comforting himself as a child threatened to penetrate his consciousness but Killian silenced it. A captain such as himself had no time for nostalgia.

* * *

 **Okay! Here's Liam and Killian :D Up next we begin the young Bae chapters, and I'm so excited! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review to let me know what you thought.**


	6. Milah and Baelfire

Milah cradled her infant son in her arms. His soft skin pressed against her raggedly clothed torso. She rocked the child back and forth, and stared into his perfectly smooth, round face.

The boy slept serenely, eyelids fluttering with the depths of slumber as Baelfire's young mind buzzed with pictures of shapes and faces. No doubt Baelfire was floating blissfully through the land of his dreams, while Milah was forced to remain rooted in reality.

Milah envied her son. Baelfire had not a care in the world; he was blissfully unaware of the life of hardship and shame that awaited his poor soul. Milah, on the other hand, could not keep the voices of the villagers from invading her consciousness and reverberating endlessly in her restless mind.

She wished she did not care what everyone thought or said. She wished their whispered gossip did not haunt her as she lay awake at night and as she cradled her son during the day. But Milah did care about people's opinions; she cared more than she would dare admit. The villagers' hushed words did bother her; they slowly eroded her pride until she was ashamed of herself and her family.

 _Coward._ That's what they called her husband. That's what they thought of him. If what the people said was true, and Rumple had purposely injured himself to escape the Ogre Wars, Milah would forever be forced to carry the burden of Rumple's mistakes, the shame of his cowardice. Milah dreaded the day that she feared was approaching, the day that Rumple would return from the front lines, and Milah would be forced to learn whether he had truly abandoned the war as everyone said he had.

Baelfire's peaceful, fluttering eyelids suddenly snapped open. He began to wail with a fervor with which Milah almost wished she could scream as well. It was as if Baelfire could read his mother's emotions, and he was expressing her despairing unease.

"Shh shh shh," she soothed the baby, swaying back and forth and rocking him back to sleep. "Hush now, Bae," she whispered. "Don't you worry about a thing. Return to your dreams of shining rainbows and endless green meadows." _You'll have the rest of your life to wallow in pain and sorrow,_ she added silently.

Milah smiled at the irony of the babe's cry. Infants knew nothing of the pains that would fill their future days, and yet they insisted on near constant sobbing. She liked to prevent that he was, indeed crying vicariously for her, even though she knew it was unlikely.

Baelfire's screams died down, and his eyes drew closed once more. Once he had settled down, Milah walked over to his cradle and gently lowered him into it.

* * *

"I love you, Bae," she said, smiling down at her son. She sighed, and, blowing him a kiss, she breathed, "Good luck."

"Mama! Papa! Look how high I can jump!" Once he had his parents' attention, the toddler began to spring up and down, laughing all the while.

"That's wonderful, Bae!" Rumple exclaimed. "Isn't it wonderful, Milah?"

"Yes," she replied curtly. "Good job, Baelfire."

Leaning heavily on his walking stick, Rumplestiltskin limped over to his son and scooped him up into his arms. He lifted the boy up, and father and son beamed in unison. "I think you deserve a special treat, Bae. What do you say, Milah? Shall we get the boy something sweet to eat? Can you whip us up some tasty cake?"

Baelfire giggled and clapped his hands together in delight. "Yes, Mama!"

Milah swept her eyes around the dilapidated hovel until they fell to rest on her husband's grinning face. "Really, Rumple? You think we have sugar in the house for cake? In case you haven't noticed, we can barely afford enough bread and water to keep the three of us alive." She folded her arms across her chest. "And stop coddling the boy, Rumple, unless you want your son to turn out as soft and weak as his father."

The boy began to cry. The sounds of his wailing sobs echoed throughout the hovel, reminding Milah of the days of his infancy, when she would hush him and rock his screams away.

She exhaled sharply and stared into Rumple's eyes, her gaze as cold as ice. "Do you see what I mean, Rumple? The boy is soft. He's three-years-old, and he still cries all the time like a baby."

Bae only cried harder. Milah stalked away, leaving Rumple to comfort the child.

* * *

"What's wrong love?" Killian asked, stroking her cheek. It had been three weeks since she last saw her son. Three weeks since she left him. Abandoned him.

Milah shook her head. "Nothing," she assured him, not meeting his eyes.

Killian planted a kiss on her cheek, and returned to a rowdy conversation with the crew.

Milah stared down at the floor of the _Jolly Roger's_ deck. She closed her eyes and saw the face of her sweet young son. "Mama!" she imagined Baelfire saying as his round face lit up in a smile.

Milah swallowed and blinked back the tears that began to sting her eyelids. Milah had listened to the whispers of the villagers and taken them to heart. She had called Rumplestiltskin a coward more times than she could count. Since the day Baelfire was born, Milah had spent many a night lying awake, fearing that her son would grow into a coward as well.

There she sat, finally surrounded by a family who loved and respected her and whom she loved and respected as well. But deep in the depths of her mind, heart, and soul, Milah was panged by an incessant discomfort.

Milah had abandoned her son. Despite her rugged lifestyle amongst pirates, she was a coward.

* * *

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter on Milah and Bae! I'll be doing one on Rumple and Bae next. I'll also be doing one with the Darlings and Bae and one with Hook and Bae. Let me know if you guys want any other young Bae chapters besides the ones I listed.**


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